


Arthur. (A Vampire, You Know?)

by kethni



Category: Vamp U
Genre: F/M, Silly, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: ‘Ugh!’ he groaned, waving his hands. ‘Please. I have no stomach for gore.’
Relationships: Arthur Levine/OFC
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Arthur. (A Vampire, You Know?)

**Author's Note:**

> Is Vamp U a good movie? Nope!  
> Is a smart movie? Nope!  
> Is it a fun beer and pizza movie? Oh yeah.

Fall was Arthur’s favourite season, especially since his whole rebirth _thing_. Really, who needed summer anyway? All that sweat and stickiness? Urgh!

There was a place for sweat and stickiness and that place was in bed. Or on his desk. Or that one _amazing_ time at the U.S. Bank Stadium in Minneapolis during Super Bowl XXVI. That was recently of course. Arthur had always had a robust romantic life but the whole vampire thing had totally kicked things up a notch.

He didn’t use an umbrella. That just made inquisitive people ask questions and colleges were _full_ of inquisitive people. A little experimentation made it pretty clear that that a hat with a wide-ish brim did the job well enough. Arthur had a sneaky suspicion that Wayne had been just a _tiny_ bit dramatic in wafting around campus with an umbrella to protect him from the sun.

Arthur wasn’t a natural hat wearer, he wasn’t sure that he had the ears for hats, but he was an elegant dresser and found it easier than expected to adapt.

It didn’t hurt that it helped him stand out a little. Arthur was a little older than most of the faculty but there was something about a dapper style of dress and a _touch_ of the glamorous that seemed to really work for a certain type of student.

You know, the ones who thought schtupping their professor was a great idea. Mostly chicks, most of them hot, and all of them lazy as all get out. Smart students, unattractive students, smart _and_ unattractive students, they worked damn hard. Hard enough not to rely on getting in good with Arthur. Beautiful women didn’t think they needed to put in any effort into anything, be it college work or sex. And the boys! The boys were so much worse. Arthur didn’t know how the girls put up with it.

Mindi screeched something as she slammed her heels into his back. Arthur prided himself on giving head. He did prefer not to have his hair yanked at. He hadn’t quite decided how he felt about her drumming her feet.

Arthur was gathering his things together when someone knocked at the door. He tucked his files under his arm as he turned towards the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Unusually among his colleagues, Arthur was quite firm on his office hours. Not because he was the authoritarian type generally. Authority really wasn’t his _thing_ , like at all, but… If he didn’t put his foot down about office hours and making appointments, then students would be forever wandering in while he was having sex. Nobody wanted Billy-Bobby the mouth-breather on a football scholarship shouting out commentary to anyone passing by. Once had been _more_ than enough. 

Arthur wandered over to the door and opened it. The woman outside was about his age with neatly braided waist-length dark hair, almost black eyes, and burnt umber coloured skin. She was wearing a tan polo shirt, khaki pants, hiking shoes, and a fleece jacket. He thought that her jacket was pulling down on the left, as if it was heavier on that side.

‘What can I do for you… Detective?’

‘Agent,’ she corrected. ‘Mathilda Talbot. You meet a lot of detectives Mr Levine?’

‘Professor,’ Arthur said. ‘Doctor if you’re feeling nasty.’ He picked up his hat from the stand. ‘I’m just leaving for the day. Would you care to walk and talk?’

She put her hand on her hip. ‘You’re finishing at four in the afternoon?’

Arthur checked his watch. ‘Wow, I had no idea it was so late. Shame I don’t get overtime.’

She shook her head. ‘We can do this here or we can do it at the local FBI office.’

Arthur clucked his tongue. ‘How about we split the difference and go to the coffee shop? I’m not hungry but it has excellent coffee.’

‘You drink coffee?’ she asked, moving aside to let him lock the door.

‘Before six in the evening,’ Arthur said. He waggled his hand. ‘Any caffeine after six and I am awake _all_ night.’

Talbot put her hand on her hip as they began walking along the corridor. ‘You’re not generally up all night?’

Arthur waggled his eyebrows. ‘Depends who I’m with.’

She barked a surprised laugh. ‘Does that line work often?’

‘I don’t think anyone has ever cued me up for it before,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You’re might be my first.’

***

Arthur had a sweet tooth. Before he’d _transitioned,_ he’d had a weakness for all kinds of cakes and desserts. These days cakes weren’t really an option, but fortunately he lived in San Francisco now. There were three different types of sugar and fat laden coffees for every actual person.

FBI Agent Mathilda Talbot stared as he happily sucked down a mouthful of unicorn Frappuccino. She was drinking an Americano. She had surprised him slightly by asking for it by name and not arguing about wanting “just a black coffee.” She seemed the type.

‘What did you want to talk to me about?’ Arthur asked.

‘Murders,’ she said.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m not a forensic psychologist.’

She groaned. ‘No, this isn’t some painfully formulaic TV show where an FBI agent consults some _wacky_ expert. That never happens in real life.’

‘Shame,’ Arthur said. ‘I could wave a badge around with the best of them.’

‘A consultant absolutely would not have a badge,’ Talbot said firmly. ‘Possibly a laminate.’

Arthur played with his straw. ‘You’re no fun.’

‘Okay, you wanna play consultant? Tell me your insights into the campus sorority slaughter,’ she said. ‘You were there. You knew the victims.’

Arthur licked his lips. ‘Is that what they’re calling it? Wow.’

‘Tabloid press loves lurid labels,’ she said with a shrug.

Arthur returned his attention to his coffee. ‘I met a few of the victims,’ he said. ‘I certainly wouldn’t say that I knew them. There were thousands of students on campus and I would have only met a few hundred at most.’

‘Oh, I must be mistaken,’ she said mildly. ‘I thought you were at the blood drive at the sorority house.’

‘Nope,’ Arthur said cheerfully. ‘I was in my office the whole time!’

‘I’m impressed you can remember so clearly. It was ten months ago. Some people might consider that almost suspicious to have an alibi to hand.’

Arthur’s straw noisily guzzled the bottom of the cup. Agent Talbot groaned softly.

‘An entire sorority were killed,’ Arthur said. ‘Along with a bunch of male students. That’s the kind of thing that concentrates the mind.’

Talbot took a sheaf of photographs from her pocket and spread them across the table. Arthur glanced at them and then quickly looked away.

‘Ugh!’ he groaned, waving his hands. ‘Please. I have no stomach for gore.’

Agent Talbot’s lips pulled back into something between a smile and a snarl. ‘You’re squeamish?’

‘Always have been,’ he admitted cheerfully.

‘But you did donate blood. A bag with your name on was found at the sorority.’

‘I don’t mind my own blood,’ he said, waving his hand. ‘One of the students came to my office and I gave a pint there.’

‘Was that Chris Keller?’ Talbot asked, with a last flicker of hope.

Arthur, carefully not looking at them, fastidiously pushed the photographs away. ‘No, I don’t believe that I caught her name. But they were all in these… outfits that weren’t precisely matching but seemed themed.’

Talbot rolled her eyes. ‘They looked like they’d run through a Hot Topic at high speed.’

Arthur’s eyes glazed a little. ‘It was very… distinctive,’ he said. ‘So I was confident that she was in the sorority. Not that anyone would want my blood for some nefarious purpose. What possible reason would they want it for?’ He laughed too much. ‘I’m no cute little virgin to be preyed on by a vampire, more’s the pity!’

Talbot sighed. ‘But you knew Chris Keller?’

‘A little,’ Arthur said dismissively. ‘She knew Wayne a lot better.’

‘She was having an affair with him,’ Talbot corrected.

Arthur widened his eyes. ‘Was she married? Wayne sure wasn’t.’ He leaned forward. ‘Affair suggests such an _illicit_ relationship, don’t you think?’

Talbot pointed her spoon at him. ‘Stop it. You’re not charming. You’re a suspect in a mass slaying!’

Arthur clucked his tongue. ‘You sound like my first ex-wife.’

‘She thought you might have killed thirty-three people?’

‘Not that part,’ he said. ‘The not charming part.’ He checked his watch. ‘Would you like another coffee? Or we could go somewhere more comfortable.’

Talbot threw up her hands. ‘This isn’t a date.’

Arthur gave her a sweet smile. ‘It could be. Come on, you don’t think that I’m a vampire slayer, do you? Although I do have a girlish figure.’

Talbot leaned back in her chair. ‘That’s twice you’ve mentioned vampires.’

Arthur blinked rapidly. ‘Well they… they were stabbed through the heart! Who does that? I’ll tell you. Some poor, unfortunate sick person running around thinking that vampires exist, and they need to slay them.’

‘The female students were stabbed… in the chest is about the best that can be said,’ Talbot said. ‘Some of them took three or four stabs before they got the heart.’

‘Wow,’ Arthur said, nodding his head. ‘That’s super gross.’

Talbot folded her arms. ‘The male students suffered throat trauma,’ she said. ‘We found DNA from the murdered female students all over them.’

Arthur nodded. ‘Student services have _so_ many leaflets and posters about being safe but… young people. They’re so passionate in the moment. I, on the other hand, always use protection.’

Talbot crossed her legs at the knee. ‘You’re gonna keep up this whole act, huh?’

Arthur spread out his hands. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

She stood up. ‘I’ve done my research on you, Professor Levine, and on paper you’re the kind of guy whose only brush with violence is when some angry husband or father catches you hiding in a bedroom closet. Your buddy Wayne though, he has a weird, vague history with way too many holes and too few facts. A bunch of the sorority sisters weren’t at the house when the massacre went down. They took off and someone, _someone_ chased them down to five cities in three states. But not you professor and not your buddy, Wayne, who, by the way, is now shacked up with Mary Keller. You know a lot more than you’re telling me, Professor, and you don’t strike me as a man who’s good at keeping secrets.’

Arthur gave it some thought. ‘Do you want to get drinks tonight?’

Agent Talbot stared at him. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’m at the Grand. Come pick me up at seven.’

***

Arthur went to the butchers on the way home and picked up his order. He could have gone to a cheaper one across town, but they were more likely to ask questions. In the part of town where every other store had “artisanal” in the title, store owners were so bored of the answers that they no longer asked questions about their customers’ bizarre requests.

He let himself into his apartment, fussed the cat, fed the cat, and put his order in the refrigerator. These days there wasn’t much variety in there, although Arthur was enjoying exploring different ways to prepare what he had.

Then he called Wayne. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He’d been more than a little hurt when Wayne had taken off without a word immediately after the whole sorority house _thing_. Arthur had figured that he’d run off to be with Mary. He didn’t mind that, although Arthur had grown out of his own romantic phase sometime around his third divorce, but the lack of communication had been unkind. But now it looked like Wayne had been off killing the student vamps and that whole situation made Arthur deeply uncomfortable. Killing attractive and scantily clad young women just because they _might_ kill people? There was an alarming shortage of those already without going around staking them. And Wayne had killed people! Arthur hadn’t judged him for that. Arthur never judged. He was a professional. But there definitely seemed to be a double standard at play that was biased against pretty girls in skimpy clothes. That was just wrong.

Also, and this was the most uncomfortable part, Arthur didn’t know what Wayne’s level of evidence was before he started waving his wood around. While Arthur certainly wasn’t averse to being _impaled_ in fun ways, being staked seemed no fun at all. And Wayne wasn’t his type. 

‘Hey man, how’s it going?’ Wayne asked, as if he hadn’t abandoned Arthur without a word _months_ ago.

‘There’s an FBI agent sniffing around.’

There was a long pause. ‘About me?’

‘You’ve been mentioned,’ Arthur said. ‘She’s asking about the sorority stuff.’

‘Okay, well, you weren’t involved in any of that so there’s nothing to worry about, right?’ Wayne asked. ‘You haven’t been killing people at your new university, have you?’

‘I’ve never killed anyone!’ Arthur said hotly. ‘Nobody here is killing anyone. I think sometimes that you forget that the average person goes their entire life without killing _anyone_ accidentally or otherwise.’

‘Yeah,’ Wayne said wistfully. ‘That must be nice.’

Arthur rolled his eyes. ‘I thought I better tell you. Communicating is a thing that friends do.’

Wayne groaned audibly. ‘Mary said you’d be ticked.’

‘Mary was right,’ Arthur said tartly.

There was another pause. ‘Look, Arthur, I saw the empty bag of your blood at the sorority house,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want a repeat of the Chris situation.’

Arthur frowned and got a bag a blood from the refrigerator. ‘You thought I might start running around killing people?’

‘I didn’t know _what_ you were going to do,’ Wayne protested. ‘And if I didn’t see it then I didn’t have to deal with it.’

Arthur kicked the heel of his shoe into the floor. ‘So… You were trying to protect me?’

‘Exactly!’

Arthur pouted as he opened up a bag and poured it into a bowl. ‘You could’ve said that.’

‘Eh, I didn’t want it to be weird,’ Wayne admitted. ‘So what’re you living on? Did you ever get over being squeamish about goats?’

‘I’m secure enough in my masculinity not to consider squeamishness over killing an animal a problem,’ Arthur said primly.

‘Butcher, huh? Never tastes fresh to me.’

Arthur shrugged. ‘I have nothing to compare it to.’

‘Thank God!’ Wayne laughed. ‘Look, I gotta go. We should meet up. Go to a game or something.’

Arthur sighed to himself. ‘I’d like that. As long as I’m not in jail for the next three hundred years.’

‘Uh-huh, okay, gotta run. Call me about the game,’ Wayne said and disconnected the call.

Arthur tucked his cell away. He had just enough time to drink his dinner and get ready for his date.

Other people might not consider it a date, but Arthur strongly believed that if you didn’t ask then you didn’t get. He hadn’t spent a Saturday night on his own since he was old enough to shimmy into too tight jeans and wear a shirt open to his navel.

Not that he dressed like that now. As a mature man he had cultivated a very classy and indeed classic style, thank you very much. Annalise, one of his girlfriends during his second marriage, had persuaded him to try bow ties and he had never looked back. He selected a blushing pink one to wear with a grey suit and a white shirt. A little subdued perhaps but he always found it best to dress to the lady and Agent Talbot did not strike him as much of a peacock.

Peahen? But peacocks were the ones with the bright plumage while peahens were drab little creatures. Peacock then, for clarity of metaphor if nothing else.

***

Agent Talbot was waiting on the steps outside the hotel. Impatience or unwillingness to have him know which room was hers? Either was possible and neither was particularly promising. Type A personalities tended to find Arthur aggravating and people nervous in his company, no matter how understandable that was, were rarely fun drinking companions.

Arthur parked his Porsche 944 Turbo across the road. It wasn’t a “sexy” car among collectors, but Arthur found it a cute, cheeky car and was confident that in the long term it would be valued fairly. Unless things went horribly wrong, he was going to be around long enough to see pretty much anything he owned become treasured archaeological artefacts. He was very tempted to put some pocket lint in a safety deposit box and maybe splash out on some of those abandoned storage lockers that seemed so abundant on the kind of television his students watched when they were supposed to be in his lectures.

‘Are you kidding me?’ Agent Talbot asked, walking over to him.

‘I’m on time,’ Arthur protested. He could’ve looked at his watch, but his sense of time was impeccable these days, and besides he was enjoying looking at the ruby red dress and spike heels that she was wearing. ‘Ooh, I love your necklace,’ he said craning forward. ‘Crucifixes are so suggestive. Are you Catholic? There’s something about a Catholic girl…’

She pulled it over her head and pressed it into her hand. She seemed put out that his only response was admiration.

‘Not Catholic,’ she grumbled, and then straightened up. ‘The car,’ she said. ‘What, are you James Bond?’

‘I always saw myself as more of a Q type,’ he said. ‘But it hits the sweet spot between cost efficiency, style, and solid engineering.’ He opened the car door for her.

‘Huh,’ she said. ‘That is much more practical than I would have expected from you.’

‘Thank you,’ Arthur said cheerfully. ‘You look great. I can’t even see where your service weapon is.’

‘It’s in my purse,’ she said, getting into the car. ‘It’s a Glock 23 compact semi-automatic.’

Arthur nodded. ‘I know _nothing_ about guns. Maybe you can tell me all about it.’

She frowned slightly. ‘Seriously?’

‘Oh yeah. New knowledge is very sexy.’ 

‘You’re a very strange man,’ she said.

‘Because I’m open to new experiences?’ Arthur started the car. ‘What else is the purpose of life?’

‘Mine is for catching criminals,’ Talbot said.

‘What if you don’t?’ Arthur shrugged. ‘If your purpose is dependent on always succeeding in a career that has like a what… seventy percent success rate, then you’re going to have some problems.’

Talbot growled softly. ‘I am not nearly drunk enough to listen to a man I barely know critiquing my life choices.’

Arthur grinned at her. ‘Then let’s get those drinks!’

***

Arthur was a social drinker but not a _heavy_ drinker. A couple of drinks lubricated anxiety and lent a little warmth and friendliness where it wasn’t yet occurring naturally. Agent Talbot, it transpired, drank _very_ heavily and then climbed on a table to dance to the band.

If Arthur had been a younger and _much_ more romantic man, then he would have probably fallen in love. As it was, he decided that clearly there was a great deal going on in her life that would likely make her a terrible prospect for a long term relationship but, hopefully, a fantastic prospect for a one-nighter.

‘Come up and dance!’ she barked.

Arthur shrugged and took off his jacket. Then he climbed up on the table to dance with her.

‘I’m not taking you back to my room,’ she said. ‘But we can go back to your place.’

‘Sure,’ he said agreeably. ‘Do you have evidence in your room?’

‘I gotta a big cage in there and I’m keeping my prime suspect in it,’ she said, throwing her hair from side to side.

‘Ah. I hope you fed and watered him before you came out tonight,’ Arthur said.

She looked him dead in the eye. ‘Not everyone needs food and water.’

‘Well, I need a couple of shots before we go,’ Arthur said.

She threw up her arms and swayed to the music. ‘Do I intimidate you, _Professor_?’

He gave it a little thought. ‘No, but you’re several drinks up on me and that would be very ungentlemanly of me.’

‘Call an Uber,’ she called after him as he walked to the bar. ‘Your little white ass isn’t getting me into a wreck.’

‘On it!’ he said, saluting towards her.

***

The Uber driver really earned his five stars by coming around to open the door so that Arthur could squirm out of the car supporting Mathilde. He wasn’t precisely holding her. If anything, she was holding him; her legs wrapped around his waist with the tenacity of a dog with a bone.

He got them upstairs, fumbled open the door, and into the apartment.

‘Is this your place?’ she asked, suddenly letting go.

‘Not as fancy as a hotel but at least I know who’s been rolling around on the floor naked,’ he said, putting his jacket on the hook and taking off his shoes.

‘Cute,’ she said, stalking around the room. ‘It’s not what I expected.’

Arthur took off his bow tie. ‘What did you expect?’

Her grin was feral. ‘Something with a crypt.’

‘Are you kidding?’ he asked. ‘Do you have _any_ idea how expensive property is in this city?’

***

Arthur had wondered about sleeping. He was a big fan of sleeping. All the media he could find suggested he’d end up sleeping during the day, which would have been inconvenient, but Wayne didn’t. So, he’d decided not to worry about. This was a decision that Arthur found himself making with some regularity. Sometimes it was the wrong decision, but really, nobody made the right decision all the time.

He woke up at a little after 4. That hadn’t been unusual before he turned when his prostate was just starting to make nascent complaints. Since then he usually slept straight through, which had been one of a number of pleasant surprises.

He wasn’t surprised that he was alone in the bed. It was one of the common components of a one-night stand. He _was_ surprised that he heard movement in the kitchen. The walk of shame didn’t tend to include breakfast. Definitely not at a little after 4 am.

Arthur got up and wandered out of the room. If he’d been a character in a movie he might have put on pants or wrapped a sheet around himself. He’d never understood that logic. They’d already had sex. They’d already seen every inch of each other. What was the point of playing coy about any of it?

Mathilde seemed to agree. She was stood before the open refrigerator, the dull light turning the curves of her body into a silhouette. It would have been the stuff of an erotic thriller if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew what was _in_ the refrigerator.

‘All you have in here is blood,’ she said, turning towards him.

‘Try the cupboard,’ he said. ‘There are cans of food and boxes of cereal.’

Mathilde put her hand on her hip. ‘Why is your refrigerator full of blood?’

Arthur shrugged. ‘It’s the best way to keep it fresh.’

She pushed the door shut. In the dim light, her eyes glowed red. ‘Whose blood is this?’ she growled.

‘Shaun, Daisy, and Chicken Little,’ he suggested. ‘I’m afraid I never checked what names sheep, cows, and chickens use to identify.’

Mathilde stared at him for seconds that stretched out into agonising silence. Then she laughed, a low and throaty sound. ‘It’s animal blood?’

‘Sure! What else would it be?’

Mathilde stalked forward. ‘Human.’

‘Ew, gross.’

She stopped barely inches away from him. ‘You’re a vampire.’

Arthur leaned forward. ‘Your tail is showing.’

‘What? Fuck!’

He chuckled as she spun around.

‘How did you know?’ she moaned.

‘Your tail is _literally_ showing,’ Arthur laughed. ‘And there was… uh…’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘If you’re going to say a smell then I’m leaving.’

‘Aroma?’

‘No.’

‘Musk?’

‘Hell no.’

Arthur pursed his lips. ‘Scent?’

Mathilde shrugged. ‘Eh, I’ll take scent.’

He rubbed his head. ‘There’s cereal and canned food in the larder.’

‘Why do you have regular food?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘I have visitors,’ he said, waggling his eyebrows. ‘So why don’t you grab whatever and come back to bed?’

Matilde crossed her arms. ‘Did you kill any of those students?’

‘Nope,’ Arthur said. ‘I’ve never killed anyone. I’ve never even bitten anyone.’

She nodded. ‘I felt your teeth, but you didn’t bite me.’

‘It’s a baffling feature from an evolutionary point of view,’ he suggested. ‘We either turn people we bite into vampires or corpses. That’s just not sustainable.’

Mathilde tapped her foot. ‘Why don’t you make me something and bring it up to bed?’

‘Do you promise not to bite?’ Arthur asked sweetly. 

‘I’m just like you, Arthur,’ she said. ‘I never use my teeth.’

The End.


End file.
